


Leather

by morrezela



Series: Porn Shop Curtains [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mild Kink, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean retire from hunting and open a sex shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the ‘BDSM’ square on my homebrewbingo bingo card.
> 
> This is AU after the end of Season 7. I originally started worked on it for hoodie_time's curtain fic challenge, but I didn’t get it finished in time. It started with the idea of giving the boys a job that they could do wasn't Dean becoming a mechanic or either of them becoming construction workers. 
> 
> All mistakes you find are my own.

Leather had never been a material that Sam cared much about. Salt and holy water and iron: those substances had a much bigger impact in his life as a whole. Leather was what Dean’s jacket was made out of. It was what cradled his sorry ass when he crawled into the passenger’s seat of the Impala after a long hunt. It was nice, comforting even, but not something he spent time thinking about.

That was before Sam retired and had to get a job. Dragging Dean out of Purgatory hadn’t been easy. Nothing had been easy in their lives for years, so it wasn’t exactly a hardship either. Killing Crowley to do it? That had been a pleasure.

Sam wasn’t sure where Cas and Kevin had gone off to, and he didn’t much care. The old him might’ve felt bad about his apathy. The new him didn’t. The world had other hunters. Their resident prophet had himself an angel guardian. Dean had his Impala. And Sam? Sam had Dean.

Granted, Dean was a little worse for wear. Rough around the edges and scarred from being in Purgatory, Dean wasn’t in any shape to go hunting. They didn’t have the network they once had, and they weren’t any younger. The world had been saved – or saved enough. The Winchesters could learn to take a step back from relentless heroism for a while.

Getting Dean to agree to Sam’s, “Let’s just settle down for a bit and get our wind back,” plan was depressingly easy. Sam had expected a fight about it, but all Dean did was stare blankly at him for a while before nodding and giving his okay. The easy acquiescence bothered Sam more than any knockdown, drag out fight that they’d ever had.

Okay, so maybe not ‘ever’ had because there were a few fights that topped Sam’s list of ‘Worst Days Ever.’ Like, say, Dean threatening to hunt him down and kill him. Or the Siren fight where they actually did try to kill each other. Those were bad, bad days.

So neither of them were feeling fratricidal. There was that.

The town they settled in was on the outskirts of a larger city. It wasn’t bustling, but it was big enough to disappear into. Small towns had too many snoopy neighbors. Despite what Hollywood said, most of those neighbors were not the friendly sort. They were the dig through your trash sort who wouldn’t hesitate to call the cops if they noticed Sam and Dean looking like that Sam and Dean from the news.

There was that whole awkward moment where Dean had to use the knowledge he gained from Frank to help Sam create new identities for them with social security numbers and everything, but Sam had changed the oil in the Impala all by himself. If Dean said anything about beating Sam at his own game, Sam would go change the tire or something too. He had mad skills. Once Dean was acting more Dean-ish, Sam would remind him of that fact.

In any case, they established themselves in a suburb and started living the good life. Dean had nightmares. Sam had nightmares. Dean would occasionally stare off into space and twitch. Sam would watch him twitch and feel impotent about it. The boredom was actually sort of nice. For the first time since Jessica’s death, Sam didn’t have the constant itch to go hunting.

But there was only so much syphoning of funds that they could do before somebody noticed, and selling off the Campbell family or Bobby Singer hunter collections was a definite no go. For one thing, Bobby’s books had sentimental value. For another, those books could be dangerous in the wrong hands. For the most important thing, Sam didn’t believe their good luck would hold out forever. Research was necessary for getting Winchester asses out of trouble.

Sam was trying to find some construction companies that were hiring when Dean came up with the brilliant idea of opening a sex shop. They’d had their first fight in months over it. After Sam stalked back to his bedroom in a huff, he cried unmanly tears of relief. He made a big show of being whiny and bitchy when he gave in the next morning, but it was worth it to see the half second of sparkle in his big brother’s eye.

They got a spot on the highway. Sam didn’t know the details of how Dean got it past the city business board, but he had the sneaking suspicion Dean slept with the commissioner and her girlfriend. He didn’t think about it because there was a day when sleeping with two hot older chicks would’ve had Dean crowing like a rooster.

In any case, they opened a sex shop. Dean refused to allow Sam to be in charge of the media section. He made disparaging remarks about Sam’s ‘base’ taste in porn. Why he was supposed to get excited over cartoon breasts, Sam would never know, but Dean’s exceptionally skeevy taste in nudie magazines and skin flicks had them turning around their cash flow within weeks.

But Dean wasn’t content to just see them breaking even. Dean wanted profit, good profit. The standard costumes and toys that they had originally started stocking the store were slowly eclipsed with a wide variety of ‘quality’ merchandise. Dean started turning his ‘tell me your creepy secrets’ charm on to convince blushing girls and horny men that they just had to have this one vibrator that had changed his whole world.

And, yes, Dean had indeed tested all of the products that he could. Life on the road had kept either of them from amassing many personal items. There wasn’t a place for anything in the car that wasn’t absolutely necessary or too precious to part with. Sex toys were not in either category. Freed from that lifelong restraint, Dean was amassing a collection of toys that was staggering.

Not that Sam had looked or anything just… A guy hears his brother moaning, right? After decades of looking out for attackers and nightmares in the middle of the night, Sam had learned to get up and check if anything sounded strange. It wasn’t like he’d been trying to sneak a peek.

Sure, Sam had seen Dean doing naughty things to himself before. It happened. There had just never been so much silicone involved in the past. So what if he’d gone back in the room later to check out just how big Dean’s private stash was? He was just making sure that Dean wasn’t hurting himself was all. Hell had done horrible things to both of their brains. He wanted to make sure that Purgatory hadn’t given Dean some sort of penance fetish where he was mutilating himself.

Kinky times were one thing, self-harm was another. Dean’s penchant for martyrdom was huge before he ever came to get Sam from Stanford. Adding that to the weird staring into space thing Dean had started to do was more than enough justification for Sam to worry. He didn’t think that Dean would know where the line of healthy exploration and unhealthy penance was if he started down that road.

But the only harmful objects in Dean’s room were his hunting supplies, so Sam didn’t think twice on barging into Dean’s room the next time he heard moaning. That was a good thing because Dean was having a nightmare. While Dean didn’t like admitting to having issues, he was grateful to be woken from them. If he pretended otherwise, that was just par for the course.

Then again, if the walls in their house weren’t so damned thick, Sam wouldn’t need to go barging into his brother’s room all the time. Their entire lives had been built around paper thin walls and two foot gaps between queen sized beds. Real houses were not meant to be lived in by paranoid people.

Of course, only Sam would be caught admitting that he had issues with not being able to clearly hear his brother sleeping. Dean wouldn’t dare to even hint at such a thing, but Sam knew. Dean might’ve raised him, but Sam had grown up studying Dean’s every move. He could see the tightness in Dean’s eyes that disappeared with Sam’s, “Good Morning.” It had always been there, that need to set eyes on Sam and make sure everything was okay.

If Dean grumbled and complained about needing space, it was just an act. Their codependence was a mutual disease, but Dean’s case of it was the more severe. Not that Sam intended on doing anything about that. He’d get around to it someday, maybe. Just… he had other things to do. Things like beating Dean at sales margins.

Sam had, “Great experience at being choked,” according to Dean. This somehow meant that Sam had gotten relegated to selecting the BDSM gear for the shop. Dean was ever so magnanimous in giving over the collar selection even though, “You probably aren’t even going to get the good ones.”

Which, okay, Sam was perfectly capable of getting his kink on. He got over being uncomfortable in sex shops around the time that he turned sixteen and Dean decided that Sam needed to learn all of the places to score condoms and lube. “Sometimes you don’t have time for a lot of foreplay, Sammy. But that’s no excuse for making a girl uncomfortable. You get lube. You warm it. Everybody is happy.”

Still, Sam’s tastes in kink ran more towards things that weren’t being tied up, bound, choked, controlled or otherwise incapacitated and at the mercy of another. Conceptually, he got the appeal. Emotionally, he had too many personal issues with actually having been choked, restrained, tortured or possessed to get off on it.

He’d throw an absolute fit about being the one to have to stock that section of the store if it wasn’t for the split second of fear that came into Dean’s eyes whenever he looked at chains or hooks. Hell was worse for Sam, but Lucifer and Michael had been more inventive in their torture than Alastair. The rack had been beneath them.

Getting rid of the section entirely would be okay as far as Sam was concerned, but it turned a good profit. Condoms and lube and ‘vanilla’ sexual aids could be bought at the local Target. Frilly lingerie could be found almost anywhere. Bondage gear? Not so much.

So Sam was left to make decisions on what items they should and should not stock in the store. Dark colors were the most popular, but a little red and purple mixed with the standard black really made the display more appealing. At least, that was what Sam told Dean. That he felt all black was too depressing was a truth he wasn’t willing to share.

But beyond ensuring a wide variety of bondage gear, Sam had to worry about quality as well. Sure he could get the cheaper material, but some of their customers had to go to work on Monday after a weekend of play. They wanted pleasant chafing for a reminder of how bad or good of a sub they’d been. They didn’t want to be patching over still bleeding skin so that it didn’t soak into their white dress shirts or drive thru window polos.

There was goat skin and deer hide and so many grades of cow hide that Sam’s head spun. Softer was generally good, but the heavier pieces needed sturdier grades to keep the buckles and chains in place. Longevity was essential if you wanted a customer to pop serious cash for some gear. Dean’s porn magazines and disposable pocket pussies were keeping their day to day sales up, but they needed quality merchandise if they wanted to keep a good reputation.

“Sammy,” Dean said as he strolled over, very purposefully keeping his eyes away from the new assortment of flogging whips, “do you think that I should go with _Gay Boys Unlimited_ or _Frisky Friends 5_ for our free trial with purchase?”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to make decisions about the pornos,” Sam reminded him as he eyed the new harnesses he’d gotten in. The riveting looked a little off on the straps.

“It’s a free trial,” Dean responded.

“So I’m allowed as long as it doesn’t cost us money?”

“Yeah.”

Sam looked over at the list and frowned, “What about The Hotness IV: Return to Wetness?”

Dean made a face. “That was the grossest series ever. I am not allowing that trash in my store.”

“Says the man that spent two hours decided which tentacle porn video he wanted to order,” Sam reminded him.

“Tentacle porn is an art,” Dean scoffed.

“According to you, all porn is art.”

Dean wiggled his eyebrows at him.

Sam rolled his eyes in return and snatched the list out of his brother’s hands. There was a title circled and scratched out several times near the bottom of the list. Very purposefully, Sam did not mention it. He knew better than to ask Dean.

“ _Dirty Deeds Seven_?” Sam suggested.

Dean’s eyes dilated for a second before he turned bright red. “I, uh, no. That was, not hot at all.”

“Meaning that you already own it, and you plan to jerk off to the free material instead of selling it in the store?” Sam pointed out, “which means you want me to pick out your fapping material for you.”

Dean snatched the list back. “Make it sound dirty why don’t you?”

Sam lifted an eyebrow at Dean, then slowly surveyed the store before returning to look at Dean with both eyebrows raised. “I’m running a sex shop with my brother,” he said very slowly.

Dean flushed deeper. “Whatever. You can’t even get Sinthia to put out,” he grumbled.

Sinthia was Dean’s latest high end sex doll. She was expensive and was busy modeling the latest in Dean’s ‘bunny wear’ line that he’d commission from a local seamstress. Inna Hooha and Vaginia had already been respectively sold to a couple in their mid-thirties and a very uncomfortable looking car salesman.

“I think that you’d hurt me if I tried to get into Sinthia’s… what are they again?”

“Cotton Tails,” Dean reminded him, “you need to know the goods if you expect to sell them.”

Sam couldn’t keep his eyes from glancing over at the hood display. He didn’t mean to do it. He was a better brother than that, but years of fighting with Dean had developed certain instincts that couldn’t always be overridden.

“Medium grade latex, shouldn’t be worn for long periods of time. Not recommended for people with milk allergies. Also, you got taken on your riding crops. The fringe isn’t long and supple enough to give a good snap. Sound is a part of sex, Sam,” Dean told him gruffly.

“I didn’t think you…”

“And stay out of my damned toy chest,” Dean added hotly. “I don’t need you in there.”

“I…”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean interrupted.

“Really?” Sam asked after a few minutes had passed without Dean stalking away.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “No.”

“But?”

“I’m going to go take inventory on the feathers. I think those crafters stole a few the other day,” Dean grumbled as he walked off.

Sam shot an accusing look at his riding crops before going over to the ball gags. They were positioned in a shadowy corner for a reason, and that reason was that they weren’t the type of thing that could be easily ‘tried out’ without it being noticed as opposed to some of the other gear. The shadows made logging into their porno distribution account on his phone that much easier to conceal. The free trial list was in the same order on their online account as it had been on the paper one Dean had. A quick scroll showed that the free sample was _Done Me Wrong_ which was the highly anticipated spin off to Dirty Deeds Seven.

“Following the story of Jason and his unending love for his brother, _Done Me Wrong_ continues to explore Jason’s unsuitable feelings and fantasies even as he prepares to watch Marcus marry his dream girl. This latest release from Girl Pornductions is guaranteed to stir your mind and your libido.”

Sam sighed and looked over at the collar selection, wondering if it would be too cowardly of him to spend the rest of the day ‘taking inventory’ like Dean was. He knew Dean. And he knew the general reasons why he was so fascinated with the topic. Sam was more than aware of how odd their relationship was. He also knew that they had spent a good portion of their lives ignoring it.

It didn’t surprise him that the subject was starting to crop up in Dean’s head now that they weren’t fighting for their lives every time they turned around. What surprised him was that Dean was trying to bring the subject up. Granted, it was the most passive-aggressive that Sam had ever known Dean to be. But as Dean was generally uncommunicative, and the subject was so far into the uncomfortable zone that it was amazing, Sam could give him a pass on it.

Walking into the ‘sparkly’ section of the store, Sam tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to have this discussion with Dean while surrounded by rainbows and vibrating butterflies, but if they got into a fist fight, it at least wouldn’t be his glass anal beads that got broken.

Dean was carefully eyeing the ‘caring rabbit’ he had on display. “Does this look used to you?” he asked as Sam walked up.

“No,” Sam told him, “and I don’t want to know if I’m wrong.”

Dean shrugged and put it back on the shelf.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean replied shortly. He didn’t even bother pretending that he didn’t know what Sam was talking about.

“So you just trolled all that past me to what?”

“Let you know,” Dean gruffly answered, staring intently at the glow-in-the-dark star pasties.

“That?”

“Felt like lying. We said we weren’t going to do that anymore, so… You know,” Dean mumbled.

“Oh,” Sam said, not comprehending.

“Dude, you’re supposed to be the smart one,” Dean snapped.

Sam frowned at him then stopped as comprehension started filtering in. “Oh! Dean, dude I…”

“No caring. No sharing. No comment.” Dean said, raising his hands and taking a step backwards.

“I…”

“Go pick out some new paddles for fall before they’re on backorder,” Dean interrupted. “And I mean no comment, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes and stalked away. He ordered twice his normal stock of canes along with the paddles, just to irk Dean about their cash commitments, and then ordered five copies of _Done Me Wrong_. He was going to set it up to play on every television and computer that they owned. Two could play Dean’s game.


End file.
